


Let Them Have Their Fun

by OldBeginningNewEnding



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Beware my purple prose, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Established Relationship, First Time, M/M, Marathon Sex, Other, Pillow Principality Aziraphale (Good Omens), Service Top Crowley (Good Omens), That's it, They really can't keep their hands off each other, Top Crowley (Good Omens), courting, that's the entire fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22519318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldBeginningNewEnding/pseuds/OldBeginningNewEnding
Summary: It's one of those days. And by that I mean I have a hankering for some good-ol'-fashioned-smut. And marathon sex.And knowing that Aziraphale and Crowley are ethereal/occult beings without refractory periods and have been pining for each other for centuries-to-millennia?Delicious.The moment that Aziraphale made it known that he was ready to go at Crowley’s speed and that there was nothing to fear– that he wanted it too– Crowley found that there was little reason to hold back.After all, his angel was just as hungry for his love in return.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 140





	Let Them Have Their Fun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Buckets_Of_Stars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buckets_Of_Stars/gifts), [spooklock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spooklock/gifts).



> welcome to my “not quite a fic, not quite a headcanon”; a small tribute to Top-Crowley-Central (Buckets_Of_Stars) and snek-snuggles (spooklock) on tumblr who've drawn me out of fic-writing hibernation against my better judgment with their lovely content.

The courting was excellent– if Crowley says so himself. nothing but the best for his angel and although it was tentative, almost fragile in the beginning, the moment that Aziraphale made it known that he was ready to go at Crowley’s speed and that there was nothing to fear– that he _wanted it too–_ Crowley found that there was little reason to hold back.

After all, his angel was just as hungry for his love in return.

And so after months of courting gifts, dinner dates, kissing– oh such _lovely_ lovely hours spent in each other’s company with kisses of all natures: fervent and fevered, affectionate and amorous, even chaste and innocent– it was his delightful angel in the end that asked if Crowely was ready to–

\-- “make it to home base” as it were. 

~~Funny, his angel seemed to be rather fond of these American phrases, even if he did make a fantastical leap from first base to home.~~

And of course Crowley wanted this to be perfect as well. he wanted to make it _good_ for his angel, wanted to give him the pleasure ~~(pleasure, _always_ pleasure, his hedonistic little angel was made to be spoiled and sated by his hand)~~ and love ~~(love, _always_ love, he was made to love all of humanity and Crowley was made to love him)~~ he deserves–

He wanted it planned, wanted it romantic with silken bedsheets and candlelit atmosphere.

But instead Aziraphale kissed him long and slow with a tenderness only his angel could give to his darkened, felled heart and said “Take me to bed.”

They made love that night in a cozy bedroom Crowley suspected Aziraphale had miracled the very second he sputtered his assent. Slowly, indulgently, learning all of his angel’s body: what made him keen and cry out, what made him gasp and dig those blunt nails into his shoulders, what made him lose his silver tongue until his vocabulary only consisted of “ _C_ _rowley_ ” “ _more_ ” and “ _please_ ” until the moon sank to other skies.

After a power-nap and waking to the sight of his angel bare-skinned and bearing his bites and bruises on his ample thighs and milky white throat, Crowley had him again many times for many hours after that.

Some part of Crowley feared that he’d never be sated now that he’s had his angel, now that he had known the shape of his mouth when he screams in pleasure, the way his hair splayed out like a halo as he looked up to Crowley with dazed desire, the feel of him so tight, hot and _perfect_ —

But in between the bursts of lust and longing, there’s that soft affection that crests through the hunger and passion, the disbelief and awe from both of them thinking, breathing, and praying _“I can’t believe I get to have this”_ and _“I never thought I could have this”_ and _“Please, **please** , let us keep this”–_

And then Crowley is at peace with the knowledge that at least Aziraphale's got it just as bad.

* * *

Time flies and eventually, they do make it out of the bedroom. They still hunger, however, and for many months after that, they’ll drag one another upstairs– to a miraculously empty room, an inconspicuous corner– after a shared innocuous look, a pleased smile that sends the other’s blood rushing, a saunter that evokes a memory of what else those hips could do—

And to all their (adult) friends who watch on with exasperation as Aziraphale tugs on Crowley’s hand and leads them towards the demon’s private office, they have to remind themselves that the angel and demon have waited thousands of years for this.

Let them have their fun.

**Author's Note:**

> have a lovely day and thank you for reading~


End file.
